The fear of falling
by OliviaH123
Summary: Merlin comes face to face with a Bogart for the first time.


**AN: So, this is just my take on what Merlin would see if he ever met a Bogart. All rights for Merlin go to BBC. And all rights for Harry Potter go to Warner Brothers.**

Merlin had met a lot of different magical creatures in the world. Not all of those meetings were overly pleasant. It was safe to say that in his two thousand and fifty-something years on earth, he had encountered his fair share of dark magical creatures. There was, however, one he had never seen before. One he had taken great pains to avoid. Quite successfully, -he was pleased to note- until today. And to be honest, standing in the line of teenagers in his robes, under the guise of a third-year student at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, there was nothing he could do to lessen the dread he felt pooling in his stomach at the idea of meeting his first Bogart.

Merlin watched as the students in line in front of him faced the Bogart one by one. The fears being shown to them by the nasty creature ranging anywhere from terrifying to ridiculous. All too soon for his liking, he was at the front of the line, trying not to tremble as he awaited the uncovering of his greatest fear, and quite possibly a spectacular blowing of his cover. Off to the side, the kind werewolf professor, -Was his name Lupin? Merlin couldn't remember- Muttered words of encouragement under his breath. Stumbling a little, -He had never really gotten over that particular habit- Merlin took a few steps to the front and stood before the Boggart.

For a moment, nothing happened, and Merlin stood waiting in trepidation. Then suddenly, the Bogart started to flicker and change, images fading in and out of focus impossibly quickly. Merlin saw himself, angry and broken, cursing the magic that forced him to live forever. He saw Arthur, lying still and cold, the spark faded from his eyes as the wound in his chest claimed his life. He saw thousands of pyres, burning for those who had spent their whole life suffering and being punished for their gifts. And he saw the funerals of those he knew, both friends and enemies, passed on from this life, having found peace in death and leaving him forever alone.

As suddenly as it had begun, the flickering images stopped, settling into one figure.

It was Arthur. Sort of. He still had the same face, blue eyes, and light blond hair, but his clothes were that of a modern muggle, and his expression was empty of something important. Though Merlin couldn't tell what.

Stepping towards this modern version of Arthur slowly, as if he might disappear, Merlin made his way closer to the apparition, slightly confused as to why the Bogart might believe that his greatest fear was his best friend. Reaching out his hand, Merlin gently tugged on Arthur's sleeve, trying to get his friends attention.

"Can I help you?" the not Arthur said, turning to Merlin with an annoyed look on his face. Unable to bear another second, Merlin launched himself at his best friend, shouting in joy as he gave him a bone-crushing hug.

Only to feel himself being thrown off violently by the recipient of his affections.

Tears welling in his eyes, Merlin looked up at the Bogart Arthur from his newly found position on the floor to see annoyance, confusion, and worst of all, _indifference_ on Arthurs' face. Pausing for a moment, as if to catch his breath, Arthur looked at Merlin and uttered the most devastating thing he had heard in a long time.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

And in a burst of clarity, Merlin understood. He knew his greatest fear, and what this modern Arthur had to do with it. He could never truly be afraid of the other things the Bogart had shown him because they had _already happened_. He had _already_ seen his closest friends and family die, he had _alread_ y witnessed the genocide of innocent magical people, he had _already_ been left alone. In the end, the one thing Merlin truly feared was the continuation of his solitude. He was afraid of being forgotten, terrified that when Arthur came back, he wouldn't remember. He wouldn't know his best friend.

It was a sick kind of pain, to be afraid of something so completely. And Merlin found himself utterly paralyzed, staring into those blue eyes that still lacked that _something._

With a start, Merlin realized that he had been looking for recognition, and he knew he wasn't going to find it. Not today. Chuckling slightly, tears now streaming down his face, Merlin stood back up. Grabbing his wand from his pocket as he did so.

"No," he said bitterly. Gripping his wand tighter and preparing to cast the Ridikulus charm. "I suppose you don't."


End file.
